Q: Do you ever read self-help? Anything you recommend?
A: I’m a self-help queen, dedicated to continuous improvement. I read books about problems I...
That moment where you finally step out into the world, feel the solid ground beneath your feet, see how blue the sky is, feel your heart swell with a soundbyte and just think:
Oh! THIS is what has been missing! This is what this felt like! Thanks for reminding me!
Pure, unfettered joy indeed.
5 Little Successes
Success is the unopened bottle
of white wine chilling in your fridge. The one
that you were so sure you would need
to get through the night, but sits there,
Success is found in the red, puffy eyes you have
the morning after the night you broke down.
The one where panic set in or you were terrified
your heart would never mend. But now, though raw, there are
no more tears.
Success is seen in the silence you keep, though
it breaks both your hearts. You were so sure that
you would never be able to stop shooting words
into space, but now you see the only way to mend is
to make space.
Success is the first time you wake up and you don’t think
about him in your waking moments. He, who used to intertwine
into your very being in as the sun peeked through the curtains
is nowhere to be found, and there is room for
Success is the first boy who makes your heart leap
after the last one. The one you were so sure would
surround your heart like a second skin, that no one
would make you feel that way, but now you see that
we move on.
Even when ghosts of past lives push forward,
their hands making imprints from the
inside of your chest, you must pause.
Breathe. Again. Good.
You are anchored here now. The ties
holding you against crashing waves are
softer, better for your skin than the ones
you wove from lightening-struck ligaments.
Yes, it might feel easier to give in and let
the sea engross you with its power and
barrel-roll your heart to take your breath away
but let yourself be held here now.
Both you and the ocean will be better for it.
The sea will not wait for those who can only dip
their toes in the water. And you, you know that
it is time to lower your sails and head to the harbor.
1) Her impressive use of technology. Mama Beth rocks instagram, facebook, and even has a twitter account. In a world where it would be easy to step back and say “Nope. That wasn’t around for me. I have no interest,” Mom jumps in with both feet. She is always willing and excited to learn.
2) Her impressive ability to make me laugh. She is always funny, a biting intelligent with that she doesn’t share with everyone, but if you’re lucky enough to see it you’ll be in stitches.
3) A few weeks ago, I was home during a tough family time. It had been a sucky week. I woke up, and did something that I’m guessing is strange for most 25 year old women.
I crawled into bed with my mom. Ok, it’s probably strange for really most girls over the age of, you know, 10, but when I was thinking about my mom today, it struck me how calming feeling her near me still is. How, with my father, I am consistently provided an anchor, a support. I am immensely blessed that I never walk a step in this world without having my mother’s hands, spiritually, anchored around my heart. I never take a breath in without knowing that I am loved, unconditionally, by a strong woman who taught me how to love that way as well.
Happy Mother’s Day, Mom
I have come with a nomad’s heart and a travelers’s body.
After years of being out at sea— the
twitch-muscles in my calves are so used to
the constant swaying of shaky hands and
fluid commitments that the stability of feeling
safe is so foreign it is almost dizzying. My
internal buoy has been measuring the
up-downs of surrounding ebbs and flows
that simply sitting quietly while he holds
my hand is a level of sea-glass calm that skews
all of my previous internal measurements.
He mentioned that he was surprised at
how much I tossed and turned at night,
and I realized that it’s because
I’m so used to sleeping on turbulent
jetstreams my body doesn’t know
how to rest on smooth skies any longer.
I’m terrified that, in my attempt to get
back to my equilibrium I will throw him
into my tornadoed heart instead. He
will get sucked into the current of my
tossing and turning and get taken out to sea.
It’s ridiculous how quickly the body
adapts to a stormy climate, and
I don’t know how to broadcast that I
am raging weatherstorms untrusting of temperance.